


Rolling Dice (REVISED)

by ActualHurry



Series: Letters from a Renegade: Epilogue [8]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Identity porn for the reader, Lore Compliant, M/M, hair petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 18:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18481900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualHurry/pseuds/ActualHurry
Summary: Shin finds out that the Drifter has Proto Thorn. Maybe it's not as big a deal as Drifter thinks.(Set after the quest, "The Draw.")---Revised version, compliant with Joker's Wild lore. Original version is still available in series.





	Rolling Dice (REVISED)

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhhkay, so this is the one that took the most fixing. :v Please enjoy. I tried to keep the same trajectory for every one of these fics.
> 
> It is worth mentioning that Drifter is a bit of a dumbass.

With how often Shin had started hanging around his stomping grounds, Drifter had been having a rough time finding the time to play around with the gun that the Guardian had brought him. Sure, seeing The Last Word on their hip had lit a fire under him, but even that (and all the ensuing paranoia from Shin Malphur showing up on his doorstep, then _staying_ ) couldn’t extinguish his anticipation at getting his hands on the Thorn prototype.

Teben would’ve lost his damn mind seein’ this. All the Shadows had been out there, runnin’ around with their ‘tamed’ Thorns in the Crucible, trying to see how long it took before someone came down on ‘em for it. If what Shin had told him was true, everyone had already damn well known. They were idiots, all of them, actin’ untouchable...even if they really had been. Not ‘cause of any power they held, but because the Vanguard had turned a blind eye to let Shin work ‘em over.

Didn’t matter now. Drifter was content to hide in plain sight. Have his Guardians play Gambit. Stock up motes for him, more and more. He had a hell of a trove built up by now. That’d be good, if things ever crumbled down early. But this, _this?_ A Thorn prototype all his own? He had no reason to run with the Shadows when he had that Guardian on his side. Shit, his Guardian could take out all of them with Shin’s pretty gun and it wouldn’t make any difference in the world. Drifter still had more going for him than any of them. They should know better. If they wanted to survive, they were doin’ it all wrong.

Shin was busy now, something about getting called up by Shaxx to go sub in for some Crucible matches, which meant Drifter had plenty of time to turn this gun inside-out. Usually, he’d be looking over his shoulder every couple seconds, waiting for Shin to darken his doorstep again. There never was any tellin’ when he would poke his head in these days.

But now, thanks to Shaxx, Drifter was guaranteed to have at least an hour to himself. One beautiful, glorious hour of _tinkering_. Proto Thorn was gleaming somethin’ dark and infernal on his worktable.

“Where to _begin_?” Drifter muttered, grinning.

Now, he’d never seen the real thing up close. That was a trip to hell with no way back. But he’d seen all the drawings, the mockups, the concepts and the copycats. That bastard, Vale...he’d had one. Probably the most well done of ‘em. But this prototype was lookin’ real, too real. Dangerous. Like any threat to it would get shot down in a second.

Drifter liked it.

He milled over blueprints, had his Ghost scan every inch of the model and commit it to memory. He took pages of notes, studied the trigger, the body, the barrel. And he’d thought Malfeasance was a good attempt at mimicry with a twist – _and it was_ , he thought – but this, Thorn? This thing was built for death. It _wanted_ to kill. Drifter could tell. It didn’t take a genius to know a killing machine when it fell into his lap.

It’d made a real good deterrence, if it ever came to that. Malfeasance was a warning. Thorn was a cautionary tale, a _go on, keep walkin’._ They both had teeth, sure, but while one bit, the other _ate_.

Drifter made only one mistake.

He lost track of time.

The gate shook behind him as someone ducked underneath. Drifter whirled around to face the newcomer, praying it was just another Guardian but knowing, real deep down, he wouldn’t be so lucky. Shin was straightening up when Drifter faced him, his armor all scuffed up from his nonstop hour of Crucible skirmishes.

Something must’ve shown on Drifter’s face, because Shin looked behind him, eyes tracking down his arm to his hand trying to keep Proto Thorn out of view.

Seeing Shin’s mouth twist – the confusion, the curiosity, the strange _other_ , Drifter knew he couldn’t talk his way out of it. No _this-is-an-early-model-Malfeasance_ , no _oops-it’s-not-mine_. If anyone would recognize Thorn on sight, it was Shin Malphur.

“That gun –”

Shin went quiet like there was something stuck way up in his throat. Drifter kept his hand on the prototype, flat, protective. Not hiding it anymore, but not wantin’ Shin to get anywhere near it either. He felt it, the second that Shin went from staring at the weapon to staring at him.

He shrugged a single time, a lazy movement meant to hide his growing tension. “What about it, hero?”

Shin took a step closer. “What’re you plannin’ on doing with that?”

Drifter angled himself in the middle, between Shin and the gun. “You know me. Lots I could do with it.”

“What,” Shin said again, lower this time, “are you plannin’ on _doing_ with it.”

And that wasn’t the Shin Malphur who’d been hanging out in his alleyway talkin’ to him like that, and neither was it the Renegade who’d been steely and angry enough to throw him over the side of his catwalk before choosin’ to say a word.

That was the Man with the Golden Gun standin’ there, a precious few feet away from the Drifter, demanding an answer.

Drifter’s pulse thudded loud as could be in his ears, quick and hard and panicked.

“Remember the agreement,” he urged, sliding the prototype closer to the edge of the worktable.

“Thought you weren’t playin’ this game.”

The way the very edges of Shin’s mouth flicked down before he reigned in the expression gave Drifter pause. Was that – disappointment? Was Shin _disappointed_ , under all that wrath? Drifter was seein’ things that weren’t there, that was all. And if he was disappointed, it was ‘cause that meant this was a dealbreaker that Shin hadn’t seen comin’, so he was mad he hadn’t put a bullet in him when he’d had the opportunity.

Drifter’s jaw worked as he clenched his teeth. “Guess we both thought wrong then, huh. Didn’t we?”

This time, Shin’s reaction wasn’t nearly so understated. He instantly shut down, any dismay remaining turning towards anger; his shoulders tensed and his chin lifted, taking Drifter in with silent judgment. Drifter saw his fingers twitch and froze – was it unconscious, or was Shin about to draw that Golden Gun on him? – but in the end Shin only clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides. The sight of that empty holster on his hip would haunt Drifter for ages to come. ‘Course he hadn’t really thrown in the towel. A man like that, with his gun alight with fire any time he wanted, he didn’t need any iconic cannon. Drifter was gonna be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the ashes painted on a wall that meant Shin was signin’ away their arrangement.

“I ain’t above admittin’ my fault,” Shin said flatly. He never took his eyes off of Drifter, staring right into him. “You know what hole you’re diggin’?”

“Other than my own grave?” Drifter asked. He tried to sound unimpressed; he landed somewhere between dry and overcompensating.

“Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done to keep this from happening again.”

Shin moved before Drifter ever had a chance – one moment, there was a not entirely comfortable amount of space between them and the next, Shin was bearing down on him with a hand around his throat and their chests near touching. Drifter had Proto Thorn half-raised, but Shin nearly broke his arm grabbing his wrist tighter than a fucking vise. Drifter bit his tongue ‘til he tasted blood to keep from giving him the satisfaction of a pained noise.

“You listen, because this is a warning,” Shin breathed, close enough for a whisper to do the job. Drifter fought back a shiver. “This ain’t my hunt anymore. It’s not my place to find these leads and snuff ‘em out. However our Guardian wants to do it, they’ll do it. And I trust their judgment. Maybe they’ll turn ‘round and shoot you one day. Maybe not. It sure as hell ain’t my call. But you play around too much with these weapons, get somebody hurt… I’ll take matters into my own hands. That’s no hunt. That’s just a consequence.”

Shin’s fingers dug into the soft part of his neck. Drifter’s pulse bounced back against Shin’s fingertips. Even through the gloves, he could feel the Solar heat begging, burning to be released.

“You know how to keep it tame?” Shin added, quiet. “You know how to stop its hunger?”

Drifter’s eyes flicked this way and that, drinking in the sight of Shin’s face – from his hard gaze and the line of his brow to the set of his jaw and flat frown waiting to turn into a snarl. This was Drifter’s personal apocalypse staring him down and he was standing here waiting for the end, riveted by every inch of the danger pressed up against him.

He licked his lips. “Yeah,” he admitted, ears already hurting with the knowledge. “I know.”

“...Alright.” Shin leaned in closer still. The idiot, amped-up part of Drifter’s brain craved more. He sighed, soft, so close to Drifter’s mouth. “I want to trust you. I do.”

“That was your first mistake,” Drifter managed with the little bit of air in his lungs that hadn’t been knocked outta him already.

He tested Shin’s hold on his wrist, hissed in a strangled breath when Shin’s grip only tightened. So that arm wasn’t going anywhere, but –

Drifter’s free hand shot up and grabbed a fistful of Shin’s hair. Before Shin could pull free, Drifter reeled him in the last little bit of distance, their mouths crashing together in a move that was closer to a headbutt than a kiss. It was payback for that first kiss Shin had given him so unexpectedly. Shin was unyielding and shocked – furious, probably – until Drifter sank teeth into his lip, and then Shin threw himself into it with that wild abandon Drifter missed so much from the Renegade.

He refused to let go of Proto Thorn even as Shin nearly bent him backwards over his workspace, even as Shin twisted his arm behind him, even as Shin growled, “ _Drop it_ ,” into his mouth. He didn’t drop it, he _wouldn’t_ drop it, but he did shiver hard and laugh about it, feeling close to crazy and nowhere near ready to back down.

“What, it scare you that I might be able to make a hundred of these?” Drifter asked, his whole body thrumming with the intensity of his fear, his excitement. All the anticipation bubbled right up into his throat as he laughed again, breathless, trailing off only when Shin’s fingers at his throat tightened. He snarled, “It’s the law of the jungle –”

“You think I’m scared?” Shin asked, an unreadable sorta surprise on his face. “You don’t know anything.”

Drifter blinked at him, uncomprehending, and then Shin was startling a moan out of him, pressing his leg between Drifter’s, spreading his knees further apart. Drifter yanked his head back to get Shin to bare his throat for him, then dove in with bites and licks and sorry excuses for kisses. Shin’s hand finally slipped off his throat and instead he grabbed Drifter’s hip just as tightly, urging him into grinding against him.

Still, he never let go of his arm. And Drifter never let go of the gun.

Drifter huffed sweet, full breaths of air, dragging his teeth over any and all exposed skin he could reach. Shin’s cloak kept plenty hidden and Drifter wanted _all of it_ off, right now. He made a grab for it, intending on flinging it on the floor, but Shin shoved him flat on top of his worktable before he could.

He paused, looking up at him – Shin’s dark eyes were narrowed with intensity, his wet, kiss-bruised lips parted. There was a pink flush high on his cheeks, giving away his enjoyment of it all, but Drifter knew that he was still full of that anger. He had to be, even though the promise of sex kept it off his face.

“You want my clothes off, we’re shuttin’ the gate first,” Shin told him, hushed. Drifter peeked around him to the half-open gate. “We didn’t. Last time.”

Drifter shifted a little, stuck between the uncomfortable table and a lot of uncomfortable armor edges. “Do you one better. Derelict?”

Shin paused. “Thought I was a psycho.”

“Yeah, and I don’t trust you either, pretty boy,” Drifter purred, rolling his hips up against Shin’s thigh and sighing at friction that would’ve been so much better without layers. “But you don’t trust me either, and I want home turf advantage.” And to stash Proto Thorn somewhere Shin wouldn’t dig it up and destroy it the second that they were done fucking.

There was a stalemate for a few precious beats, and then Shin let go of Drifter’s hip and took a step back, pulling him straight up with him. Drifter watched him intently, and then after another moment of silent deliberation, Shin made a choice. He dropped his hold on Drifter’s wrist and turned around. The sheer relief of that constriction being gone was outdone only by the outraged shock that came with the knowledge that Shin knew he wouldn’t shoot him if he was turning his back like that – and of course he knew he wouldn’t, when Drifter’d had Malfeasance right up against his forehead and sure as hell hadn’t pulled the trigger then.

Shin transmatted his cloak off and tossed a look over his shoulder at him, daring him to do something...and catching Drifter checking out his ass in the process. Angry or not, Drifter wasn’t in the business of giving up a chance to ogle like that.

“We goin’?” Shin asked then, sounding more smug than Drifter really liked.

Drifter growled under his breath and transmatted himself onto the Derelict, flipping off the security that’d been blocking Shin’s request frequency from going through. He hid Proto Thorn away, muttering about nosy Hunters as he did. And to make it easier, he went ahead and lost a couple layers of his own clothes, figuring that’d save some time. Why not? Why not. He had a hundred things he could use as weapons around here. He could always smother Shin Malphur with a pillow if he really needed to. Probably.

He hesitated for a second, only for a second, before accepting the transmat request when it appeared. Just for a second. Long enough to frustrate himself.

Long enough to be ready by the time Shin appeared.

Drifter didn’t kiss him, not until Shin made that move, licking into his mouth and tugging at Drifter’s remaining clothes. Drifter focused on peeling armor piece after armor piece off of Shin first, gauntlets and gloves and chestpiece and belts. It was a matter of stripping away layers of defenses, of advantages. The first knife from Shin’s gear was dropped to the floor; the second knife he threw behind him while he gave Shin a glance; at the third, he scowled.

“So many fuckin’ knives,” Drifter said disparagingly, and then he flung the blade across the bedroom. He hoped Shin had to crawl on his hands and knees to find it later.

Shin pulled a Trust out from behind him, where it’d been tucked inside Drifter’s waistband. He made a show of checking the ammunition until Drifter snatched the gun out of his hands and transmatted it to his Vault.

“Don’t say a fuckin’ word,” Drifter warned, low, then shoved Shin onto the bed before his wry smirk could get any more pronounced.

Shin pulled Drifter’s top off of him, but that was all he managed. Drifter jerked Shin’s pants down to his knees, spitting on his bare palm and stroking him fast, admiring the way Shin arched at the contact. Shin could be enraged beyond belief and he’d still turn to putty like this, when Drifter got his hands on him in every right way. It threw him for a fuckin’ loop was what it did, made Drifter question what exactly they thought they were doing together.

He tried not to think about it, most days. He wondered, briefly, if Shin did.

Shin was breathing hard, panting little _ah-ah-ah_ ’s, and Drifter had full intention of making him come all over his clothes but then Shin jolted upwards and dragged him in for a kiss, enthusiastic and messy and not angry, not wrathful, not frustrated. Drifter’s uncertainty was lost to arousal as he braced his hands on the bed to keep himself upright throughout it, and then Shin was pushing him to roll over onto his back.

And like the fucking idiot he was, he rolled right over.

“Oh, fuck,” Drifter gasped when Shin pulled his pants low around his ankles, and it was _worth it_ , because that warm mouth wrapped around his cock.

He would’ve jerked his hips further, make things go on a little faster, but Shin had both of his hands pressed down on his waist, keeping him infuriatingly in place. Shin blinked up at him with an accusation in his eyes, fingers putting more pressure onto his hips, and Drifter didn’t need him to open his mouth to know he was telling him, _Good try._

Different tactic, then. Drifter stroked through his hair twice, in time with the slow, slow rhythm of his mouth working down his cock, and then he grabbed hold of those strands, testing. Shin’s brows curved tight together, but he didn’t tell him to stop. If anything, the little jerky shift he did against the bed meant that he was perfectly fine with it.

“Alright,” Drifter murmured, “I know you like it rough, but...”

Shin’s tongue flattened against the underside of his dick. Drifter bit his lip to keep his swear to himself. He smoothed his hand through Shin’s hair instead, petting, curious, and when Shin hummed and doubled his efforts, Drifter figured he’d hit another sorta jackpot.

There’d been too much buildup, the threats and the closeness and the danger and the adrenaline, the kisses and the grabbing hands. It wasn’t going to last much longer, and that was fine. As the heat mounted low in his gut, Drifter couldn’t help but weigh the odds – whether Shin was going to stick around after this one, or if he’d sooner get away from him.

Shin tongued at the head of his cock and Drifter groaned, tipping his head back, hissed at a hint of teeth that came after and then oh, hell, Shin got one hand on him too and Drifter was _gone_ to that wave of heat. Three strokes of his cock and Drifter’s petting motion in his hair turned into a harder grip, as much of a warning as he felt like giving, before he came in Shin’s mouth, his ears ringing with the force of his orgasm.

He watched Shin sit up, watched him wipe his thumb over his lip to clean it off. He couldn’t for the life of him remember when Shin had gotten himself undressed, he could’ve sworn he’d left him with his shirt and pants on not _that_ long ago. But Drifter couldn’t hardly give a damn about anything. Shin Malphur swallowed.

Something shiny hanging from Shin’s neck, a pendant maybe, caught his eye in the low light. Drifter reached up to catch it. Some emotion he couldn’t place flashed across Shin’s face, but he didn’t stop Drifter from inspecting whatever it was.

It took him one dumb second before he recognized his own necklace.

“I was wonderin’ where… How the hell’d you get this?” Drifter asked, and then cleared his throat, his voice much more sex-wrecked than he’d expected.

“Stole it,” Shin said. He sat himself on Drifter’s thighs. “You want it back?”

Drifter stared at him, but no distraction was enough to keep his gaze from wandering back down between Shin’s legs. He was still hard, hadn’t gotten himself off yet. Drifter lended him a hand, letting the necklace loose again as he stroked over Shin’s cock, spreading precum with his thumb. “Yeah, seein’ as it’s mine.”

Shin sighed, licked his lips and shivered. “So steal it back,” he breathed.

“You ‘n your Hunter shit.”

And even half-hazey from his building orgasm, looking like a fucking mess, Shin managed to settle the full weight of those eyes on him. “It’s not really about the thing you’re stealin’,” he rasped.

Drifter didn’t ask what he meant. He just touched him ‘til he came, wet stripes going over his stomach and chest. He palmed around until he found Shin’s pants, wiped himself off with those while Shin recovered, half-slumped and breathing hard. Most days, the thought of being under Shin Malphur would’ve sent him into an anxious overdrive, but the bliss of a good finish was keeping that under wraps. He nudged Shin off of his lap and spilled him over into the mattress.

“You haven’t changed your sheets since the last time I was here,” Shin said, his mouth half-muffled by the pillow.

“I washed ‘em.”

“Once?”

“Yeah. Day after we fucked in here.”

The day after the Renegade left and right before Drifter got a letter explaining who the hell he was, actually. But he kept that part to himself. The way Shin was looking at him, it seemed like he knew without Drifter saying it. How nice, that Shin Malphur would do him the kindness of remembering fucking around with him.

“That’s been awhile,” Shin said slowly.

“You got a problem with it, you could leave.”

Drifter fully expected him to get up and go at that, but Shin settled into the mattress completely and shut his eyes instead.

“Five minutes,” Shin told him, already sounding halfway to dozing.

 _What the fuck_ , Drifter thought, trying to place his discomfort.

Eventually, when he was sure that Shin was breathing evenly enough that he was asleep, he got himself out of bed. He gave one glance to the necklace’s pendant, fingers outstretched to take it back, but as he touched the cool metal, he paused. If he asked for it back, _seriously_ , he was pretty sure Shin would hand it over. If he made it clear he really wasn’t into playin’ these stupid Class games.

_It’s not really about the thing you’re stealin’._

He picked up one of Shin’s knives from the floor and cut the cord of the necklace, slipping it free from Shin’s neck. He’d fix the cord and start wearing it again soon enough. See how long it took Shin to steal it away again.

Drifter was just about to leave Shin to his sleep and head off to work on his prototype when he frowned, taking another peek at Shin’s neck. He very, very lightly pushed back the dark, mussed curls of hair. Even in the poorly lit room in the Derelict, Drifter knew blood when he saw it. His first thought was one borne of worry – had he seriously bitten his neck that hard, and _when?_

His fingers stilled a touch away from the already-sticky blood when he saw it’d smeared down from Shin’s ears.

Drifter froze, unmoving, and glanced at his face to make sure it was still slack with sleep. Withdrawing his hand, he swallowed, pushing himself off of the stupid cot so he could pull his pants up his hips.

He rubbed at the sides of his head, relieved when his hands came away dry, then took a deep, deep breath. He didn’t have time for this. Didn’t have time to think about it. There were too many pieces, and none of ‘em fit.

Drifter looked between Shin and the open doorway to the rest of the Derelict, where Proto Thorn waited.

His siren song won out. Drifter walked out to get his prototype up and running, necklace pendant fisted in his hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading...always. <3 
> 
> ONWARD TO SERIES 3.


End file.
